


We All Fall Down

by Oph3lia



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: (so maybe a little OOC idk), Internal Conflict, My First Fanfic, One sided, Suicide Attempt, They fight a little, Triggers, hidashi (sort of), how do you even tag?, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oph3lia/pseuds/Oph3lia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was on Wednesday I think when I decided it was time. </p>
<p>If only I'd hit the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Might be triggering so please be careful! But it's nothing graphic.  
> This is my first fanfic and I'd really appreciate some feed back, and I really hope you enjoy it ^_^

I think it was Wednesday or something when I finally decided it was time. I hadn't really stopped thinking about it. I mean, it might not be a perfect cure, but it's better than nothing right? Right. I'm tired of fighting back. Everything would be better soon, I just had to 'woman up' so to speak and do it, get it over with, but things never really go as planned. So, on Wednesday I walked up the stairs to the roof where I always ate alone (and sometimes where he'd find me, call me sentimental or whatever, but it just felt like the most fitting place to fix everything). Instead of sitting though and eating my lunch wrapped in cute little Lucky Cat wrapping as per normal, I stood on the edge.

And God was it high. It was very, really unnecessarily high. But I'd always loved the colours of San Fransokyo, the shapes and sounds so it was okay. I finally had some kind of peace, my brain finally stopping its constant turmoil. I don't know how long I stood there just thinking. I do that a lot, always have, but more so than usual as of late. But anyway, the eternity or second whatever past and the door behind me opened with a click.

And I knew it was him. No one else comes here. His movement had stopped but I could feel his eyes burning into my back, his breathe trapped in his chest. I had to wonder what he was thinking. Maybe he was glad? It wouldn't surprise me, but then again, he'd always cared far too much about other people. "Hey" I greet weakly, watching the clouds drag themselves across the sun. It was a beautiful day ironically. I'd always thought it would be raining, storming, thunder, lighting: the whole sha bang. I wanted pathetic fallacy, but all I'd got was natures celebration. Typical.

"What..." he stops and swallows, "What's up, buddy?" his voice carries the same cheerful timbre but I can feel the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"Oh" I hum lightly, "Not much. Worldwide recession, American police brutality and another MI on that stupid soap. You know, the usual bull." It would be at this point he'd chuckle softly and make his way beside me, ruffle my hair and watch the city together. But he doesn't. Not today. This isn't okay even if we're practising the other pretences.

"It's a nice day, isn't it?" I say, far too happy to be natural. "I'm not so sure" he replies, words quaking. I imagine him fixing his stupid cap (his historic nervous twitch) or stuffing his fingers into his pockets as he attempts to take 'casual' steps towards me, clicking his mint converse against the roof's heavy surface and disturbing the gravel.

"Could... could you stay back please?" I ask softly, slightly shaking. He hears. His feet stop. My heart speeds up. It always does when-

( _stop it, just stop_ )

"What are you doing?" His voice is a low whisper. I close my eyes and move my head down in defeat perhaps, I'm not sure, and keep it there. I don't really feel inclined to answer him, but I guess I owe him that much, for what I'm about to do. I play for time.

 "What do you think happens when we die?" If he's surprised by my question I don't see it. I imagine he simply shrugs, if his silence is any indication. "I mean" I continue, "I used to believe in God but... I don't know, eternal paradise seems a little too good to be true you know? Nothing is free. Then I thought, maybe it's like sleeping without dreams. Silent. But I don't know if I'd be okay with that - I like noise..." I finally look back at him over my shoulder. His dark eyes meet mine, glinting a brilliant gold in the afternoon sun, and he stands completely stationary, mouth slightly parted as if- ( _Stop it, just please stop it_ )- Sighing he looks away, realising I expected an answer.

"Mum, she... she always used to say that after we die we come back again into another body until we've learnt all our lessons."

"Well, what do you think?" I ask, I need to know, I need to.

He looks me dead, straight in the eyes, cold, steel, "That it's a load of bull. When you're dead, you're dead. No second chances. It's not worth the drop" I startle at the sudden confrontation, closing my eyes and turn my head to the ground far, far down.

"I knew you wouldn't understand" I sigh, not bitter but not kind either as I rub the bridge of my nose. And then he started laughing. Fucking laughing. My chest hurts, angina, as if my heart had-

( _Stop it. Stop it._ )

"No" he almost snorts, "No you're right, I don't understand. I don't understand at all"

I hadn't realised how close he had got to me. He grabs my shoulder with his large usually gentle hands, pulls me back and flings me to the floor to supposed safety. ( _Out of the frying pan and into the fire_ ). My elbow throbs and I clutch it with my spare hand, wincing at the touch. He steps towards me, on his face an expression I've never before, not properly at least, reminiscent of the glimpses I catch when he tugs me away from the illegal ring way past my curfew or stands in front of my many aggressors. It's never been directed at me before, the fieriness in his eyes, the anger. He grabs my collar, pulling my body from the ground so sharply I'm surprised nothing snaps. He glares at me and I glare right back, both our eyes dilated for different reasons. He's twisted me in a way I can't get steady footing, if he let me go I'd fall painfully back to the ground (always dependent on him, always). He thinks he's got me helpless, he still thinks I'm a little kid that cries when I fall over, that runs to him when nightmares wrap around me of the car crash, of the fire. He still thinks I'm ten and getting shoved into lockers, he still thinks I'm fourteen and getting my teeth knocked out behind a dumpster in an alley way in the twilight hours. But I'm not. I'm seventeen, and while he's still got a couple inches on me, years of being the underdog have taught me how to fight back when at a disadvantage.

"Let me go." I say in a deep growl I don't recognise. It's a warning, but he completely disregards it. He looks me deep in the eyes, and with just as much firmness snarls, "No."

I kick him in the knee (" _with the tall ones, always go for the knees okay, knucklehead?_ ") and he crumples to the ground, but I fall with him and in a mess of gravel the fight begins. What happens, next I'm not sure, we're both just swearing and kicking, scratching and biting, or maybe that's just me, maybe you were just trying to defuse the conflict, to hold me down and make me count to ten like you always used to when the other kids got too much. (" _Come on buddy, we're nearly there 7, 8, 9, 10, do you feel better now?_ ). Or maybe you're just as angry as me, just as scared. Either way, when you've finally got me still, trapped, a familiar hand constricting my arms above my head and your body straddling my waist to the floor, I've earned myself a split lip and an aching jaw, and while the actual pain is well-known, the fact that it was you who gave it to me is foreign. You're mouth is moving, -( _Stop it, please stop it_ )- words are reaching my ears but I'm not listening. ( _"You never listen to me, you complete knuckle head, what would mum and dad say?"_ )

"Hiro."

Finally I meet his eyes startled by the rare use of my name. He's just as roughed up as I am, sporting a bleeding nose and eye going black at the corners. But that's not what scares me. He's crying. Droplets land shared on my cheeks, silently, his face pulled into one of complete anguish. I've never seen him cry before. Not like this. He's always had to be the strong one, always, the steady constant in my life, he never lost face. But he was just a kid when he lost everything too, he was just a kid when he sacrificed his childhood to save mine and watched our parents lowered into the ground, ashes to ashes, ashes to ashes.

This is all my fault. If only I weren't such a burden.

_If only I'd hit the ground._

 

...

 

We limp home, supporting each other ( _"We're a team right bud? The Hamada Bros, we're unstoppable, we're inseparable!_ ") neither of us in good enough shape to steer the trusted moped and instead taking one of the cities many trams. The sun is beginning to set, the sky comes alight with amazing reds and purples but we don't have time to appreciate it tonight. The cafe is closed by now, taking out the key I never thought I'd use again, with shaky fingers I push it into the door twist and Tadashi uses his foot to kick it open. Both of us cringe at the ringing bell, alerting Aunt Cass to our arrival, and I push the door closed with a click. ( _"Yeah, yeah, we stick together you big nerd."_ ) She looks up from the counter, a wide smile on her face, and words from her last conversation dance out, as if it had never ended but before she stops abruptly taking in our appearance, her easy smile dropping. "I'll go make some hot chocolate okay, boys?" Darting upstairs to the kitchen, her steps quickly replaced by the banging of cupboards and clinks of teaspoons.

Finally we find ourselves back into the attic, our attic, a mug in hand and a lipstick stain on our cheeks where the bruises weren't visible as she sent us upstairs for privacy. We sit at opposite poles of the room, him on his bed and me on mine staring at each other in silence. I take a sip from my favourite mug, and snigger when I notice that she's decorated the whipped cream with green gummy bears - my favourites.

Tadashi clears his throat. He's normal again. No longer irrational and animalistic like before, his eyes calm me, and I make my way to his side, sitting at the edge of his bed, hesitantly. "Hiro" he says, his voice gentle and reassuring like always ( _"I'm not giving up on you"_ ), "Can we talk about this? Are you ready to talk about this?"

"I don't know" I laugh humourlessly, "Are _you?"_

I don't think he is, he never will be, not for this. With a sigh and click he's placed his mug on the side, his large hand curls around my ankle, comfortingly drawing small circles this his thumb. My skin tingles and soon my own mug, just like everything else, is out of my hands.

"No." he admits and we share a sad smile, and silence falls between us once again. It's deafening. It's the beginning of the end, things will never be the same, and this is only a taste of what's to come. It's too much. I'm surrounded by him, consumed by him, we grew up so that our roots got tangled, pulls us apart and I won't be able to stand. But I've become poison ivy, I squeeze and squeeze and squeeze till he'll suffocate. This is too much.

"I can't tell you" I whisper brokenly, "You'd hate me"

His eyes dart between mine, concern tugging his brow to a frown. But his voice is steady, confident and his words escape with such conviction I nearly believe him too, "I could never hate you Hiro. Never. You mean everything to me" I bite my lip and look away, shaking my head eyes burning with the need to cry. He believes his words, but if I speak mine all that will be gone. (" _I love you my little bro, always"_ ) But I can't escape. In my periphery I can see his expression turn into one of anxiety, maybe he-

( _Stop it, just stop it, stop it!_ )

Behind my eyes his glowing face warps to one of disgust.

I feel the mattress shift beneath me as he moves nearer. I mourn the loss of warmth on my ankle but not for long as he cups my face tenderly, completely surrounding me in his scent (the same cologne since forever, and something else wholly his own). His thumbs roll across my cheeks with an impossible gentleness, and I lean into it wishing his motives were different, like mine.

"Hiro, please I-"

"I can't. I can't" I keep my eyes closed, as sobs wrack my body, "I can't lose you. I can't see you hate me. I can't. I can't, I-"

"Shh" He hushes me, pulling me into his chest in a tight embrace, rubbing those comforting circles into my back and pressing my head into his shoulder with his large hands. He mumbles 'It's okays' and 'I'm heres' and 'I've got yous' for what feels like hours. He doesn't complain as my tears wet his t-shirt or as my hands cling painfully to his back, he just kisses my head and smells my hair, holding me as if I were a china doll. He was always a better brother than I deserved. I know if I tell him this will be the last time, so I savour every moment, his scent, his warmth and the sound of his voice humming sweet words in my ear. I pretend they have different meanings. I pretend he's like me. Sick.

Eventually my sobbing subsides but he still holds me, and whispers to me, rocking us back and forth in a gentle motion. I know when I let go I will lose everything, so I don't, selfishly clinging to him till I fall asleep, like I used to when I was little, like ivy. _He will only ever see you as his little brother. He will only ever see you as his little brother_.

I can't.

I can't.

 

...

 

I don't want to open my eyes when sleep abandons me. I'm lying on my right side, my legs tangled in someone else's, an arm flung across my waist. I've woken many times like this before ( _it's so_ _unfair_ ) and with a groan I sit up. The lump beside me grumbles at the lost heat source, and reaches out trying to pull me back down towards him (ring a ring a roses) but I don't surrender. ( _"You're a little too old to be sharing a bed now, Hiro..." "But why?" "He's a growing boy kiddo, he needs his space. You'll understand when you're older"_ )

"Hiro~" he whines playfully, voice dripping with sleep. It's time now. I look at his peaceful face, childishly reaching out for me. Half light filters in from the windows, lighting him, emphasising a strong jaw and soft lips -( _Stop it just, **stop it.**_ )- I shudder a breath.

"Tadashi..." My voice comes out in a broken rasp, shaking and breaking by the third syllable. He's sitting upright beside me in seconds, sleep eyes becoming alert and scanning me in concern. I look back at him unflinchingly and swallow.

"I love you." I whisper, "I'm in love with you"

And it's like a weight is ripped from my chest, my eyes are no longer heavy with tears, or my tongue bitten to keep my mouth shut. I'm free. I'm finally free. I've confessed, it's over, it's fine, I'm giddy with the weightlessness.

And then I finally notice his expression-

"Oh."

_Oh no._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tadashi is nine years old when his whole world collapses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you were all so lovely and gave me such positive feed back I was giddy! Thank you so much, I never thought anyone would bother reading this at all and I just, ah it was so nice :)  
> I hadn't intended this to be anything but a one shot but here we are. I'm really sorry if this doesn't live up to your expectations, but I hope you'll enjoy it all the same  
> 

Tadashi is nine years old when his whole world collapses.

He sits on the back seat of his mums SUV swinging his legs and watching the city flash by as they continue through the night. Hiro is slumped next to him, just as unsuspecting, drooling on his shoulder while cute snores, more like high pitched whistles, escape through his tooth gap. Tadashi doesn't complain as his favourite t-shirt (green, with a super cool ninja diving across it!) is getting slobbered by his baby brother. Mum says little kids need lots and lots of sleep to be happy so Tadashi is all too pleased when the chatter box has finally used up his bountiful energy supplies and conked out on his deadening arm. He's had a long day he thinks fondly, glancing at his little nerd. It makes it more difficult to play car games though, the boy laments, when your partner in crime is unconscious. He sighs and looks back out to the passing scenery.

Half a mile in the opposite direction a driver makes a choice. His phone, a sleek black touch screen, sitting on the leather seat next to him begins to wail angrily for attention. It's his work phone, the one his colleagues are only allowed to call when shit is going down. He swears, mumbling grumpily to himself, debating whether it'll be worth it or not. He'd only just gotten free of the office, only just loosened the tie on his designer suit and prepared to go home and actually sleep instead of downing another shot of black coffee like he's done for the past 23 hours. But the stock market's too changeable to ignore, even for a second. He makes the choice and reaches over to grab the device, all the while thinking to himself: _'someone better have died.'_

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with... S!" Tadashi finally says with a sense of triumph.

' _This is a good one'_ he thinks, _'they'll never get this one'_

He's right. They don't even stand a chance.

At that moment his father shouts as a black sports car connects with their bonnet. The crumple zone compresses, almost as if the vehicle was hissing, bearing it's teeth and Tadashi watches his parents, swallowed up by a metal jaw and flames like gastric acid erupt and digest them into nothing more but shadows.

Tadashi was nine when he watched his whole world collapse around him, Tadashi was nine when he realizes life isn't fair.

Now at twenty-two it happens all over again.

 

...

 

'Oh.' His voice is hollow. Finally, pulled back to earth, I take in his expression. There's a buzzing in the air, perhaps the fridge downstairs, or just my ears ringing in the silence. My blood runs cold and I close my eyes so I don't have to see what I've always feared.

He looks devastated.

Time stops. My foolish high not moments before crashing down to the rock bottom I always feared. Oh god it's finally happening. Like I always knew it would even if my day dreams constantly projected ' _but what ifs_ ' on my eye lids of sweet smiles and tingling skin. This isn't just rejection. This isn't just a middle schoolers first crush turning their pink letter away, this is the cannibalisation of the one thing in my life I've always-

The bed creaks, as if he moves towards me and for a moment, a whole mortal moment - I hope. I hope this will be like one of those dramatic romances where he'll lean across to me and capture my lips before I can doubt him, that he'll cup my face, look me in the eyes and tell me the words I've always needed. But this isn't a movie. This is my life and a taboo like mine, as I always knew only results in destruction.The bed creaks, feet fall and less than a minute later I hear the bell of the front door jingle, like prison chains clinking together. I open my eyes to an empty room and a sinking feeling of dread weighing my stomach down with the realization that-

He ran away.

_("I'm not giving up on you")_   
_("Oh.")_

Yeah. Right.

 

...

 

Tadashi 's feet carried him far, far away. He shoved past the mornings groggy commuters (ignoring their disdainful tuts and 'it's-far-too-early-for-this-bullshit' glares) as if he's desperately late, or running for a train leaving the station at the next tick of the clock. He doesn't know where he's going though. He wonders for a moment what his parents would say if they saw him now, forgetting the manners they so vigorously enforced upon him and walking across roads without looking both ways sporting a black eye.

Oh god, what would mum and dad say?

_(Coward. You're such a coward_ )

Somehow, a blink later, Somehow he is standing over their graves. For a moment he wonders how he got here, without a train ticket, without any money but it doesn't matter, casting a shadow where he stands. He always cared what they thought of him. He spent his whole childhood moulding himself to be the perfect son, just for a second of his mother's pride, just for a moment of his (stoic but loving) father's recognition. Hiro had always said he cared far too much about what other people thought.

_Hiro..._

He's on his knees now, reaching out to his mother as if about to pull her dress for attention like he always did, expecting the warmth of her delicate fingers as she led him home from school or through a mundane (but oh so special) trip round the super market. He flinches when his fingers collide with stone. Cold stone. And opening his eyes, mouth parting, he is confronted by the truth. Two tombstones sticking out the ground like ugly, mocking teeth.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

They don't reply, their names merely staring back at him, upper case and mathematically perfect. There's a smug of dirt marring the script of his father. With quivering hands he pulls down the sleeve of his favourite cardigan (Green, cotton, a birthday present after the knucklehead had spilt oil all down it) and wipes it away.

"Here dad, l-let me get that for you..." He rubs and rubs and rubs, long after the mark has gone, not that he notices. When he finally pulls back, he's worn the material so much a small hole has appeared, a small thread hangs loose. He tugs it, but as he does the hole gets bigger and bigger and bigger, it refuses to snap, too woven into the fabric, built in and inescapable. But he still tugs and tugs and tugs until the fabric appears an ulcer on his forearm.

"I can't do anything right, I can't even-"

He chokes a sob, stuffing his hand into his mouth and biting down, eye pricking and breath coming in sharp pants through his nose.

_Hiro... ("I love you, I'm in love with you" )_

And all he can see are those wide amber eyes twisting from elation to despair, over and over and over again, a scratched record spinning on its axis, a scar burned into his retinas. _("I love you my little bro, always"_ )

"What am I supposed to do now, dad? What am I supposed to do now?"

The stones loom over him. He gets no answer.

 

...

 

Aunt Cass buzzes around the cafe, grabbing mugs, plates, clearing tables and spraying them with Mochi's nightmare before wiping them down rapidly with a cloth hanging on her apron. The lunch time rush is just about calming down now, so she has a chance to glance at the clock (a cute one the boys got her for Christmas, a black cat with its tail for the swinging pendulum) and notices its way past mid day. Her little men should be in class now, at college and ' _changing the world_ ' she thinks fondly. But then she realises that Hiro hasn't dashed past her in his usual flail of limbs, snatching a piece of toast from her kitchen (" _Hey! Runt you get back with that!"_ ) before stumbling out, narrowly missing the moving traffic as per normal.

 Hands on hips she pauses for a moment, grabbing a frying pan and pot and makes her way upstairs with an oh-so-innocent grin on her face. Oh this is gonna be good. She creeps up the stairs, passing a suspicious Mochi on the way, who practically rolls his eyes and curls in on himself like a stuffed cushion as if to say, ' _I don't want to know_ '. When she reaches the attic she expects to see her too lazy (but loveable) nephews snuggled into their beds, ignoring Tadashi's alarm with wheels blaring The Incredibles theme tune that is rolling its way into a corner. She expects to hear the sound of snores or groans of 'You turn it off' and 'No you turn it off' practically incoherent as they lie knocked out in their respective beds.She doesn't actually check before she's banging her pots and pans together in an explosive noise to get her boys up and alert, singing in a shrill but melodious voice.

"Rise and shine kiddos!"

She's done this so many times before. She knows what will happen: Tadashi will fall out of bed with a startled and high pitch yelp, hitting the floor in a tangle of blankets and limbs while Hiro will shot up, back straight as a soldiers, eyes bleary and wide before promptly falling back into the comfort of his mattress with a moan. When she hears no such response she finally takes the room in, stopping the banging immediately. ' _It's empty'_ she thinks for a moment, a frown drawing across her brow, because if Hiro's bed is empty there is no way in hell he'd miss the opportunity to scare the crap out of his big brother in vengeance for all the mornings of wet flannels and tickled feet as a wake-up call. With a shrug she's about to leave the room. And then she sees him.

"Hiro?"

Hunched in the corner she finds the teenager, skinny arms wrapped tightly around his knees and head tucked in, deadly still. She stares at him for a long moment, then moves slowly towards him, where he is burrowed into the darkest corner past Tadashi's divider. Her mind flashes back to the day she got that terrible phone call and ran into the hospital where she found him in ball, held tightly by his big brother at the tender age of four, crying for the parents he'd never see again. She takes hesitant steps, as if approaching a wounded animal, until eventually she is close enough to crouch in front of him, hands tucked in her underarms, as if trying to mimic his posture.

"Hiro?" She says again, "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

She reaches out to comfort him, but thinks better of it and pulls her hand back. This was not her area, just when she thinks she's got the hang of parenting, they throw her another curved ball and she has to learn everything all over again. No, she'd never needed to deal with this before, Tadashi always had it covered, understood Hiro like she never could, like no one else could, he'd always made them so independent from her, a tag team, a self contained unit, that needed nothing and no one else. She searches the room in despair and looks back again to her youngest, her baby.

"Hiro, where's your brother?"

Suddenly his shoulders are shaking up and down, his body writhing in silent sobs that permeate the air. In seconds she has wrapped her arms around him like a barricade, rocking him slowly and stroking his untameable hair, humming the lullabies her sister always used to sing for her when the nightmares got too bad. Watch checking customers begin to grumble down stairs, but Cass stays holding Hiro who clutches her like a life line, as she wonders

' _What the hell is going on?'_

 

...

 

He doesn't return home until the early hours of the next morning. He doesn't want to, god he doesn't want to but... he's an adult now. He can't run away from his problems, not anymore. People had always considered the young man brave (" _That must have been so hard for you, you must have been so strong_ " and _"You just ran into save him, without evening thinking about it? You're such a hero!"_ ) But Tadashi knows the truth. Besides, he needs his wallet if he's going to get anywhere.

( _Coward. You're such a coward_ )

The door opens with a click and he hisses when the bell chimes in fake celebration of his return. He hopes everyone is still asleep right now, that he can slip into his bed, steal a few hours of blissful unconsciousness before sneaking out without their knowledge. It's a long shot, but hell he'd be grateful to whatever deity granted it to him. ( _Just look at what you've become_ ) Every stair seems to creak beneath his feet as he stumbles up them. But he manages to make his way across the landing without incident, all he needs to do now is silently make his way up the stairs to the attic, hoping his luck will take him far enough. Taking care not to step on Mochi, who has decided the attic stairs are a very appropriate place to camp tonight, even with half his body weight hanging off the edge, he finally reaches the archway. His brain is in turmoil, screaming from every corner accusations and questions of ' _What are you going to dos_?' and ' _What are you going to says_?' and _'how bad have you fucked up to cause this?_ '

_I don't know. I just don't know._

It's dark. A wave of complete relief washes over him as he realises all the lights are off so Hiro must be asleep. He can avoid the inevitable conflict, at least till the morning. As he creeps round the corner, his eyes scan the space suspiciously, everything washed in blue due to the moonbeams filtering in from the windows. On the desk Hiro's tools lie strewn at odd angles that would make Wasabi squirm, the floor this side of the rice divider is covered in dirty laundry that, no matter how much he or Aunt Cass nagged, wouldn't get cleaned up until Hiro was so low on clothes that he began stealing Tadashi's (which, even with the knuckleheads recent growth spurt, would hang from his skinny frame, especially at his narrow shoulders)

_But is that the real reason he stole my clothes? Or is that just the excuse?_

Tadashi's not sure. He's not sure of anything, not anymore, he replays every interaction they've ever had over and over and over again. He wonders if any of it was sincere, or if he'd always been blind to the real motive, mistaking the affection as brotherly. Those hugs that lasted a little too long, and the nights when youngest brother would crawl into his bed and cling to his chest even though he was far too old to be conventional. How could he have been so blind! So stupid! He feels ill and downright confused, he almost wants to blame Hiro for this, how muddled up his brain is twisting but, it's his fault too, he never gave the kid a chance, he never gave him the option to be anything but attached to him. It's his fault, he realises with a bitter smile, he never gave him the distance and why? _I'm selfish, I need him and I wanted him to always need me too._

(" _I could never hate you Hiro. Never. You mean everything to me")_

Finally his eyes drift over to the little lump, the knucklehead that had consumed his whole world. He smiles softly, eyes welling up as he makes his way slowly to check on him like he always did. His skin pricks. He frowns as he gets further into the room, not hearing the soft whistles or earthshaking snores coming from the little runt and the hair on the back of his neck rises. Something's wrong. Abandoning all caution he moves swiftly closing the remaining distance and stands over his brothers form, viciously pulling the duvet back to reveal- Nothing. An empty bed and he realises with a cry-

Hiro's gone.

 

.

.

.

( _"What do you think happens when we die?_ ")

.  
.  
.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you're regretting asking for a second part now, eh?  
> I struggled writing from Tadashi's perspective, and I think I've made him a little too whiny but meh, I hope you enjoyed it :) please leave me any response it literally makes me so happy ^_^


End file.
